Hedging Her Bets
by sana tunnely
Summary: Molly Weasley reflects upon the Final Battle, weighing up whether or not it was all worth it. Written PreDH.


**Hedging Her Bets**

_Molly Weasley reflects upon the Final Battle, weighing up whether or not it was all worth it. Written Pre-DH._

* * *

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters and give full credit to JK Rowling. Anything else in this story which may be plagerised is completely unintentional and; should it be brought to my attention; I will ensure it is rectified as soon as possible.

* * *

'Sticks and stones may break your bones' was entirely redundant in the world of magic; for words, just two short words, held the key to life and death.

She looked down tearfully upon their cold, lifeless forms. For years they were all that she had known, all that had given her life purpose. She was born to this - to look after them. How was she supposed to continue knowing that her task had been cut painfully short, the last thirty years of her life rendered seemingly meaningless in a mere six syllables?

She'd begged them not to go. You didn't have to be a parent to know the danger which such battles brought. Strangely, the sense of foreboding which she had been experiencing for the last four years had suddenly lifted; probably, she scoffed, as the life of the very last of her remaining children was extinguished. She knew that they thought she nagged and mollycoddled but it was only because she cared and now they'd never understand. They'd never understand what it was to wholly devote yourself to another person, to spend your whole life committed solely to the upbringing of another – they'd never realise why she needed to feel like she was protecting them, the only thing they would realise is that she'd failed them as a mother for mothers were supposed to look after their children, and if she'd looked after hers successfully they'd still be here – wouldn't they?

Their red hair was emblazoned against the damp green grass as the first light of dawn unveiled a heart-wrenching sight. Bodies were strewn everywhere, some unceremoniously piled to one side, others laid out, face up covered in the first fresh dew of the morning. They'd been kind enough to lay all of hers down in a carefully arranged line. Whether or not the chronological order was intentional she'd never know. She supposed they wanted to save her the hassle of having to scour the battlefield looking for them all and couldn't help but experience a small pang of comfort from knowing that at least they were together. She couldn't bear the thought of them being alone, not at the end. She would have done everything in her power to save them from the deep depression of loneliness which she was currently experiencing.

They were gone: her precious babies were gone from her life forever and she couldn't help but marvel at the futility of it all. Looking back over all of her years nurturing and caring for them it began to seem pointless. Having children, she surmised, was the least sound investment that one could ever make. All that love and emotion saved up over years which pass in the blink of an eye, lost instantaneously.

She and Arthur had never really stopped to consider why they'd had so many children. She would have smiled under different circumstances to recall the fun which they had making them in the first place. They always knew that when their family was complete they'd just feel it. Secretly however, though she loved her boys beyond words, she'd always longed for a girl. Ginny had just seemed to cement her view of what a happy family life should consist of. She had brothers to look after her and they had a sister to teach them to be gentle and caring. They offset each other perfectly.

Arthur... he hadn't survived to see this day and for that she was glad. He had been her first loss. She shook her head ridding her mind of such thoughts. When Arthur died she thought that her life was over. It was only now that she realised that it was her children who had given her the strength to continue. Where was her incentive to go on this time? She'd lost everyone in the world that mattered. If she could have taken the place of even one of them she would have, in a second.

Looking at the six of them she was jolted at the recollection of the first of her offspring to pass away. Ron had still been so young! Seventeen was no age to die, he'd barely been given the opportunity to live! His freckles had stood out with unusual contrast against his pale skin but it was the light in his eye, or to be more specific, the lack thereof, which had made her heart break. Her precious Ronikins was gone forever. Not even magic could bring him back.

The anger which she'd experienced was uncharacteristic. She'd broken her wand in two in frustration. They were no more use than muggles if they couldn't bring people back from this! Magic had killed him so why wasn't there a counter-spell? Anything to give her youngest son a second chance at life.

Momentarily, she felt the same rush of rage as the last of her descendants were ripped painfully from her grasp. Why couldn't she have been more like Harry's mother? Why wasn't she given the opportunity to die to save her children? In a way, she envied Lily - Lily who in the wizarding world personified the lengths a mother's love could go to, the seemingly impossible acts which it could surpass. Lily however had never had to cope with the loss of a child.

She couldn't help but feel a pang of hatred towards Harry and hated herself instantly for even thinking such a thing. Harry had risked his life for the wizarding world, and in the end he'd had to sacrifice it, but why did he have to take every single one of her children with him. When Ron died, she knew that Harry had blamed himself, and in truth, she had blamed him too. Just a little bit. She'd come to realise though that Harry had given Ron the one thing that no matter how much she loved him she could never give – friendship. True, genuine, heartfelt friendship. She'd never really had that at school. She'd always been kind of a loner and in truth, she'd blamed that on the fact she wasn't close to her family. No matter how big their newly created family was however, she'd come to learn that the friendships which you chose were always far more powerful than those which were enforced upon you. Her boys were close, and they loved their sister, but Harry was the brother that Ron would have chosen, and as such, she would treat him as a son she never had.

In truth, Molly Weasley was grieving for more than the loss of her own blood relatives. Harry and Hermione had become like children to her as well. Oh Hermione! She thought, letting out a small wimper of panic. She hadn't found Hermione yet!

It took her a while to track down the Ministry Official who had been given the unenviable task of cataloging the dead. She already knew in her heart of hearts that Hermione Granger would be among them. When she found her body it was a shock nonetheless. She looked like she was sleeping almost peacefully, none of the shock and pain of her death was reflected by her corpse. She hardly noticed the still and silent man standing tearfully beside her, gazing at Hermione even now with a desperate need which she and Arthur had probably never quite had. She bent down and stroked unruly brown hair gently from a painfully familiar face before raising her eyes to Draco.

'What about... the... the...'

'Dead' he replied coldly. Dead, she thought, only a word, a single word and yet with it he had just extinguished any hope that she once had that maybe, just maybe, this war hadn't been in vain.

She moved to him wordlessly and embraced him. He too had lost a child this night.

After saying her goodbyes to Hermione, she traced her way back to her own children. The tears were freely running down her cheeks as she collapsed to the ground, crushed by the sheer weight of her own agony.

Who would have thought, she mused with a small, pained laugh, that after having seven children, not one would survive. They'd thought that having so many children would increase their happiness. How wrong they had been for she had now realised that the loss of so many children had only multiplied her pain.

Molly Weasley, left cold and alone by the graves of the fallen, had made the greatest sacrifice of all.


End file.
